My blood hath been too cold and temperate,Unapt to stir at these indignities,And you have found me; for, accordingly,You tread upon my patience:

This, in the name of God, I promise here: The which if I perform, and do survive, I do beseech your Majesty, may salve The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: If not, the end of life cancels all bands; And I will die a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.